


How Doubts Creep

by fractalgeometry



Series: The Existence (or lack thereof) Of Demons And Angels [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Communication, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Multi, Overthinking, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry
Summary: When Max was out of sorts he would often talk to his parents, but he didn’t thinkmy best friends slash mentors are actually an angel and a demon and I think they can change people’s memorieswas something he wanted to get into with them just now. Almost more often he would talk to Aziraphale and Crowley, which was...technically...an option. The problem with talking to them was that they were the angel and demon in question.~Finding out his best friends are ancient immortal creatures is tough on Max. He's going to need to do some thinking, and some talking, and get some explaining. Luckily, Aziraphale and Crowley are more than willing to do their part for that.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley & Original Character, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Existence (or lack thereof) Of Demons And Angels [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774987
Comments: 15
Kudos: 110





	1. The Slide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was originally planned to be short got away from me and is now a two-chapter fic with a possibility of a third. It's going to be marked as completed at two, because that's what I have written and it fits that way, but I may very well end up writing another one someday. It started off as "what happens when Max wakes up the day after he finds out about demons and angels". Turns out what happens is he has a lot of questions and a lot of thoughts.

Max opened his eyes. The room was dim. Above his head he saw faded, curling green and blue paper stars. Usually his eyes glanced off those stars, either onto more interesting things or closing again in favor of “five more minutes”. Today he let his gaze linger on them, just little scraps of paper taped to the ceiling. Geez, how many years had they been there for at this point? Must have been at least two. Maybe more. 

He looked at the stars, appreciating the familiarity in their curled points, and in the slightly bumpy texture of his blanket, and the smell of his room. He didn’t go back to sleep. He didn’t get out of bed. He wasn’t sure that he could do anything but lie there and be still. 

He had slept impressively soundly, considering the day he’d been coming off of. Exhaustion was a heck of a drug. Now, in the dim light of morning, back in his own room, he wasn’t sure he quite believed his own memories. They weren’t faded, or abnormally fuzzy. Just...preposterous. Unbelievable. 

After a moment’s contemplation, he rolled onto his side, propping his head on his arm. So. Angels and demons were real. Aziraphale was an angel. Crowley was a demon. His mentors, his friends, his protectors, were an angel and a demon. It felt like a cliche from a storybook meant to teach children about Good and Evil. Only, in the storybook it would turn out that the angel had been teaching him to be Good all along, and the demon teaching Evil. The story would end with his dramatic Choice (almost definitely towards Good) and Evil would be cast out, bereft, having failed its goal. 

Max didn’t like that scenario. For one thing, he rather liked Crowley. A lot. He liked them both. And Crowley wasn’t evil. He was a mischief-maker, and an oddball, and constantly irreverent. But he wasn’t evil. Nor was Aziraphale perfectly good, in Max’s opinion. He was glad — perfectly good characters were always dead boring. Aziraphale, in Max’s opinion, was anything but dead boring.

Besides, Max had never gone in for dichotomies, or religion, or strict views on the world. Come to think of it, Aziraphale and Crowley had done most of the teaching on that front, all about “making your own choices” and “keeping an open mind” and “always being open to new knowledge”. No, they did not fit in a Good versus Evil storybook. 

So why had Aziraphale and Crowley, ancient immortal beings, decided to spend so much of their time with _him,_ a young, very mortal (or so he assumed) human? It seemed strangely random. He wasn’t special. His family didn’t have any particular influence. He was just a regular kid, going to school, playing football, hanging out with friends. 

Oh god. When Aziraphale discussed eighteenth-century fashion, he probably actually remembered it. He actually had _opinions_ on the matter. Max remembered how animated he’d seen Aziraphale on the subject, and the fond look on Crowley’s face, like he’d seen this a million times. Maybe he had. 

Come to think of it, was saying “oh god” taking the lord’s name in vain? Did God exist? If angels and demons did, God probably did as well. Was Max going to hell for being a non-believer? Or Ms. Valence, for being a lesbian? Aziraphale and Crowley had been very open on the topic of homosexuality, but Crowley had also said something about them being retired. Was homophobia only necessary for active-duty angels and demons? Had he really just seriously thought the phrase “active-duty angels and demons”?

Max groaned and buried his face in his pillow. Assuming the day before had actually happened and wasn’t just an extremely detailed hallucination, Max’s life had just gotten a lot more complicated. Or at least, his thoughts had. Technically, he supposed his life was just the same as it had been. Because Crowley and Aziraphale had always been a demon and an angel. He just hadn’t known it until yesterday. Oh god. 

If he didn’t know yet whether it was taking the lord’s name in vain, he was probably fine to continue saying it. 

After a minute he groped at his nightstand to get his phone. Flipping it open to his notes app, he wrote,

_Questions for A &C _

_Is god real_

_Why are they hanging out with me_

_Is “oh god” taking the lord’s name in vain or whatever_

_Are there other angels or demons around_

_Does god hate gay people_

Five questions already and he hadn’t even gotten out of bed. He still wasn’t sure that he was up to getting out of bed. Although his parents would worry if he didn’t, so he probably should. 

Ten minutes later, Max wandered down the stairs in his pajamas. His dad was in the kitchen, making pancakes. 

“Hey, Max!” his dad greeted. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, I guess,” Max said. “Had some weird dreams.”

“About what?” His dad scooped some pancakes onto a pile of other finished ones.

“Nothing in particular. Just kind of left me with a weird feeling, you know?”

“Oh yes.” His dad laughed. “Those are the strangest dreams.”

“What day is it?” Max asked, just to check.

“Sunday. You can check the calendar.”

So yesterday had definitely happened, at least. Made it more likely that the things he remembered had actually been what happened.

“Can I have some pancakes?”

~

Max left the house around noon, pleasantly full of pancakes and wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of pajamas. He wasn’t quite sure where he wanted to go. On the one hand, he had lots of questions for his friends. On the other...he wasn’t quite ready to see them yet. He wasn’t sure how to act around them. What if he did something wrong?

It was a strange feeling to have about the two people who he felt most comfortable with in the world. Two days ago he had gone to them straight away when faced with a complicated situation. Two days ago, they had reacted in a way that shook his trust in them, even if it had turned out to be pretty justified. And today, _they_ were the complicated situation. 

He went to Lucas’s house. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it would be nice to see a friend of his own age, today.

Lucas was outside, jumping rope with his little brother. He came over when he saw Max.

“Hey! Want to join us?”

“Maybe,” Max said. “I’m a little tired.” He hesitated. “Hey, Lucas? What were you up to yesterday?”

Lucas looked contemplative. “Dunno, really. It was one of those days where you don’t really do anything, so you don’t know where the day went. ‘S why I’m outside now. It keeps that feeling away.”

Max nodded. He felt a lump form in his stomach. “Guess some days are like that. Y’know, I’m not feeling great. Think I’ll walk a bit and see if it clears up, okay?”

“Sure,” Lucas said. “Come by later if you’re up for it. Take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Max said, and left, walking quickly.

He stopped a little way down the street, sitting down against a tree and resting his head on his knees. The lump was still there, threatening tears, or anger, or terror, or maybe all three. He breathed, trying to make it smaller. After several minutes, he pulled out his phone and added another question to his list.

_Did they wipe Lucas’s memory_

~

Max didn’t go back to Lucas’s house that day. He didn’t go anywhere else. Instead he went home, and he went up to his room, and he cried. Then he lay there, on his bed, feeling the dampness of his pillow, and breathed. The lump wasn’t so bad anymore, but it was far from gone. It sapped his energy, and made him just want to curl up in a ball and hide for a very long time.

Eventually he went downstairs and got some tea. He spent several minutes looking through his options, settling on a ginger herbal blend. The house was quiet; his parents were in the living room and his sister was outside somewhere. It was a lovely day to be outside, and normally Max would be the first one out the door. Today, though, he just went back upstairs and curled up on his bed with his tea and some music. 

He somehow got through dinner with his family on the powers of vague answers and seeming constantly intent on his food, then retired to his room, where he half-heartedly read a book until it was late enough to go to sleep. 

Apparently, however, his body had other ideas. Sleep refused to come. It wasn’t that he was thinking about anything in particular, but his mind felt busy and heavy at the same time, and he couldn’t shut it off enough to fall asleep. He thought he dozed off a few times, but then he’d open his eyes and the shadows in his room would be the same.

He checked the clock once, around midnight. Then again. Twelve forty-five. Again. One forty-five.

Then he lay there, studiously not checking the clock.

Then he fell asleep, and he didn’t wake up again a few minutes later, but he felt as though he was barely asleep at all.

~

The next day was Monday, which meant Max’s parents went to work, which relieved him more than it maybe should have. He couldn’t act like he was fine today, because it was increasingly clear that he wasn’t fine. So he lay in bed until he heard them leave, then a little while longer because he couldn’t quite get himself to get up. 

He drifted through the day, reading, watching YouTube, wandering in the garden, never keeping to one activity for very long. He wanted desperately to feel better, to clear up this haze of disjointed feelings that was knocking him so off-kilter, but he didn’t know how. He usually had multiple backup plans when he was out of sorts. Sometimes he would talk to his parents, but he didn’t think _my best friends slash mentors are actually an angel and a demon and I think they can change people’s memories_ was something he wanted to get into with them just now. Almost more often he would talk to Aziraphale and Crowley, which was...technically...an option. The problem with talking to them was that they were the angel and demon in question, and he was more than a little scared of overstepping somewhere and making them mad. Who knew what they were capable of?

A part of him pointed out that he’d known them for six years and hadn’t been smited yet, which boded well. It wasn’t the dominant part right now, though, so he didn’t go talk to them. 

A very similar part of him to the one that was pointing out his lack of smited-ness knew that going two full non-school days without at least dropping by the green house on the edge of town was weird, and his friends would probably notice. Max was definitely noticing.

It still didn’t make him go. 

~

Max debated finding some reason to skip dinner that night, not wanting to interact until he was more sure of what he was willing to share, but it was more trouble than it was worth. Instead he employed a similar tactic to the day before, speaking little and applying himself to his food. He thought he did a passable job spinning his rundown of what he’d done that day as just enjoying the freedom to do nothing, but while they were cleaning up his mum said, “Max?”

“Yeah?”

“You doing all right? You’ve been very quiet the last couple days.”

Max shrugged. He wasn’t good at lying, which is why he tried to avoid the need in the first place. He also didn’t entirely want to lie. “I’m a little out of it,” he said finally. “Just distracted, I guess.”

“School breaks can come with letdown,” his mum said sagely, which was true. It just wasn’t Max’s main problem at the moment. 

“Yeah,” he said, not outright saying that was his problem, but letting her believe it. For now, he wanted it that way. 

She gave him a one-armed hug around the shoulders and opened the fridge to wiggle a container in. Max went back to his cleaning duties.

~

Max was tired. He had been all day, given his lack of sleep the night before. But again, he couldn’t seem to settle in. He dozed a bit, lightly, probably from sheer exhaustion, but it was brief and he kept waking back up. The first few times he could see light under the door, indicating his parents were still awake. The next few, the house was dark. After a while, he wasn’t sure he was falling asleep at all anymore. 

When he thought he’d been awake for at least an hour, he checked the clock. Almost two in the morning. He sighed and rolled over. He could feel tears coming into his eyes again, and he was tired of crying. He was tired of being alone, and scared, and unsure of who he could turn to. He couldn’t talk to his parents, because his problems included secrets that weren’t his to share. And he couldn’t talk to Aziraphale and Crowley because he was scared of what they might say. But…

Well, why was he so scared of what they might say? Had one day’s revelations really destroyed any trust he had in them? Hadn’t they both protected him, taught him, been his friend, for years? And...did he really have anywhere else to turn? He couldn’t go on like he had for the last two days. 

Maybe it was the loss of inhibitions that sleep deprivation brings. Maybe the un-scared part of him finally gained more control for a moment. It’s anyone’s guess. But in that moment, at one fifty-eight in the morning, Max picked up his phone, clicked to the text conversation labeled “Crowley”, and sent a message.

_You: Just how powerful are you, anyway?_

He shut the phone and laid it face up on his nightstand, so he would see the light if he got a reply. He probably wouldn’t, not until morning. Briefly, he wished he could delete text messages that he already sent.

The phone lit up less than a minute later.

_Crowley: Maybe not a conversation to have over text_

Max scowled at the screen. Another message popped up.

_Crowley: Shouldn’t you be asleep?_

_You: I can’t._

A pause.

_Crowley: All night?_

_You: yeah_

Max hesitated.

_You: and last night_

_Crowley: that doesn’t seem good_

_You: :o_

_You: Not like you’re asleep either_

_Crowley: You need it more than me_

_Crowley: get some sleep_

_You: I’m TRYING_

Max glared at the texts, then turned his phone off, putting it face down this time. He flopped back down and aggressively tried to sleep. 

It didn’t work. Aggressively trying to sleep never works.

Eventually he picked up his phone again. No new messages. It was two fifteen.

_You: I’m scared_

The reply was almost instantaneous.

_Crowley: Too scared to sleep?_

_You: I guess I must be, since I can’t_

The pause was longer this time, but a reply popped up.

_Crowley: I think you should come over_

_Crowley: Unless you really don’t want to_

_You: RIght now?_

_Crowley: Not like you’re sleeping anyway_

Max hesitated. The offer was far more tempting than it seemed like it should be.

_You: I have to tell my parents_

_Crowley: I’ll pick you up in five minutes_

~

Max crept into his parents’ room, nudging the door open as quietly as he could. He was reminded of when he was younger and he would come in to sleep in their room after a nightmare. It was the same feeling. 

He stood in indecision for a moment before crouching next to his dad, who was the lighter sleeper of the two.

“Dad?” he whispered.

His dad shifted. “Max? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong,_ just- I’m going to Aziraphale and Crowley’s. I wanted to let you know.”

His dad pushed himself up onto one elbow and squinted at Max through the darkness. “It’s the middle of the night, Max.”

“I know. Crowley invited me, don’t worry. I’m not going over to wake them up or anything.”

“He invited you at three in the morning? Why not wait a few hours?”

“Two fifteen,” Max said automatically. He sighed. “I- we had a fight, and I haven’t been able to sleep, and I want to go and...figure it out.”

His mum shifted and made a questioning noise. His dad said, “I don’t want you walking through town in the middle of the night.”

“Crowley said he’d pick me up.”

“Wha’s up?” his mum asked sleepily.

“Max wants to go see Aziraphale and Crowley to clear up some fight they had, because he hasn’t been able to sleep. He says they invited him and will pick him up so he’s not walking through town alone at this hour. Opinions?”

His mum sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. Then she looked at him. “Text us at seven if you’re not back. Be careful.”

“So...I can go?”

Now his dad sighed. “It’s important?”

Max nodded.

“If you say it is, then we trust you. Go. Keep in touch.”

“Okay,” Max said. “Thanks. Like- thanks.”

He slipped back out of the room, down the darkened hallway, and down the stairs. In the front hall he pulled his trainers onto his bare feet and opened the front door. A whoosh of cool air greeted him. Oh, right. It was the middle of the night in the springtime. 

He closed the door again and pulled the nearest jumper on over his pajamas. Luckily it was one of his, so it fit properly. Then he pulled his keys off the hook and stepped out into the silence of the town at night.

Nothing stirred. It was too early for morning birdsong, too late for humans, and too cold for insects. Max leaned against the wall and looked down the empty road, hugging his arms to his chest. A part of him regretted ever getting out of bed. Was Crowley even coming?

Headlights showed around the corner. Crowley’s sleek black car swerved into view and pulled to a stop right in front of Max.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two will be posted in the next few days, and will include communication and comfort. Lots of it.


	2. Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The windows were dark, which should have just made it feel like a winter evening, but instead reminded him that it was the dead of night, and he was alone in a house with an angel and a demon, both with untold amounts of power. 
> 
> Then Aziraphale came into the room, carrying more mugs than he should reasonably have been able to, and Max wasn’t alone anywhere. He was just in a house with Aziraphale and Crowley, holding a cup of cocoa because he wasn’t able to sleep, and he was perfectly safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here they get to actually talk through some things and Max gets some much-needed understanding.

Crowley’s head poked out the window. In spite of himself, Max was glad to see the familiar red hair and sharp features. He was even wearing his ubiquitous sunglasses, despite it being the actual middle of the night. 

“Hey, kid,” Crowley said. His voice was as gentle as it ever got. “Get in.”

Max hesitated, looking at the dark car and the head leaning out from the driver’s side. The  _ demon _ leaning out from the driver’s side. But...it was  _ Crowley. _

He got in the car.

Max had only been in Crowley’s car a few times before. He never had much need to. Their houses were only a ten minute walk apart, after all, and they rarely left town together. Sitting in the backseat now, he remembered how fancy it felt. The whole vehicle was always spotless, without a scuff or a speck of dust anywhere. He was almost afraid to touch it. 

Crowley was quiet for the brief drive, so Max was too. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, only that there was lots  _ to _ say. 

As they pulled up, Crowley said, “Aziraphale’s making cocoa. Says if you’re going to be awake in the middle of the night you might as well have something sweet.”

That sounded like Aziraphale. Max found it reassuring. 

“Sounds nice,” he said, and got out of the car. Crowley did too, slowly and oddly carefully. He moved toward the house at the same pace, limping.

“Are you hurt?” Max asked. “I’ve never seen you hurt.”

Crowley leaned against the door a bit as he opened it. “Summoning circles are not kind to demons,” he said wryly. “Not much can hurt me, but that’s one of them. It’ll heal.”

He did not, Max noted, say how long it would take to heal. Max bit his lip and silently followed Crowley into the house. It smelled of cocoa, and wood fires, and lavender. The smell was familiar. Max was, despite his worries, glad he was there.

“Go on into the living room, dear!” Aziraphale called from the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a jiffy!”

Max stepped out of his shoes and went, tracing the well-known path from the door to his favorite sofa, curling up at the end, and tucking his feet under him. Crowley followed, still slow, and sank into his usual chair with a small sigh that would clearly have been much bigger if he hadn’t been holding it back. The windows were dark, which should have just made it feel like a winter evening, but instead reminded him that it was the dead of night, and he was alone in a house with an angel and a demon, both with untold amounts of power. 

Then Aziraphale came into the room, carrying more mugs than he should reasonably have been able to, and Max wasn’t alone anywhere. He was just in a house with Aziraphale and Crowley, holding a cup of cocoa because he wasn’t able to sleep, and he was perfectly safe. 

It was all very confusing. 

He sat and inhaled the steam rising from his cup, looking around as Aziraphale settled in at the other end of the sofa. Both he and Crowley were looking at Max.

Max sipped his drink in silence, thinking. Yesterday, he had had so many things that he wanted to say. Now he wasn’t sure. 

“How are you, Max?” Aziraphale asked. 

Max shrugged. Then, knowing they wanted a real answer, he said, “Not sure, really. It’s been a weird few days.”

“I think I can guess what you mean by that,” Aziraphale said, “Am I right in assuming it’s related to us?”

“Yeah.” Max sipped his cocoa again. It was sweet, and flavorful, and reassuring.

“You said you couldn’t sleep,” Crowley said suddenly. “And that you’re scared.” He leaned forward, adopting the intense, straight-forward posture that Max had never been able to decide whether he loved or hated. “You’re scared of us?”

Crowley’s voice was even, and his intonation was that of a question, but Max could tell that he knew the answer. His face was perfectly smooth, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Max had seen him not care about things, though. Had seen him relaxed and unworried. Crowley’s face was only this perfectly unworried when he made it that way. Crowley, Max realized, cared a  _ lot _ about this topic. 

Honesty was the best way to have hard conversations. Max nodded.

Crowley’s face didn’t change, but his hand tensed, fingers closing around each other protectively.

“What scares you?” Aziraphale asked. His voice was even too, and gentle. Max inhaled shakily.

“You’re so  _ powerful,” _ he said at last. “I don’t even know how powerful, which is even scarier, but I can tell you are. And I don’t know why you’re spending so much time with me, or what you want from me, or what you could do to me if I do something wrong. Did you wipe Lucas’s memory of Saturday?” he asked suddenly, on a roll now. “He didn’t remember doing much that day, when it was the most action-packed day we’ve had in  _ years. _ So I think you must’ve done something to him, and probably all the others, and that means you could do it to me, and that’s terrifying!” He finished on a half-sob. He was so tired, and confused, and worried. He wished Lucas had never found the stupid book.

He saw Aziraphale half-reach out a hand to him, before withdrawing it. Max was glad. He wanted to stay in his own space right now.

“I did,” Aziraphale said after a moment. “I didn’t  _ wipe _ their memories, quite. Just...suggested some changes.” He looked imploring, nothing like the intimidating being who had appeared in Rachel’s barn the past weekend and everything like Aziraphale. “The knowledge of how to do what you all did can  _ not _ get out. It is dangerous to you and it is especially dangerous to us.” He paused. “I should have explained this before. I apologize.”

“So you can change my memories,” Max said. He felt a little numb. “Why didn’t you?”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who sighed. “I asked him not to. We don’t really know the others, but we do know you. I decided you could handle it.”

Max remembered the power in Aziraphale’s voice, back in the barn. He remembered Crowley elbowing Aziraphale, nodding towards Max. He remembered how Aziraphale stopped looking at him after that. 

“Do you regret it?” he asked. It wasn’t quite what he had planned on saying next, but it worked.

“No,” Crowley said instantly.

“Not unless you do,” Aziraphale said, almost as fast.

“Are you going to do stuff like that to me? Have you, already? Like, in the past.”

“No,” Crowley said again. “I don’t like interfering with humans’ will, or memory, or anything. They’re their own people.”

Max shivered involuntarily at the way he said “humans”, the casual admission that he was not one.

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “I have not. And will not. Unless you or I or Crowley is in serious danger, and such a thing is the  _ only _ avenue open to me.”

Crowley tipped his head in a sideways nod, clearly acquiescing to Aziraphale’s caveat.

“If at some point it  _ is _ the only option,” Max said, his voice small, “will you tell me first? Before you do- whatever you’d need to do?”

“Unless I absolutely cannot, yes, Max. I would tell you.”

Crowley looked a little pale. “I guess the same as Aziraphale. But, Max, I want to say always. I want to say I’d never do it in the first place, and if I did I’d always tell you.” He laughed hollowly. “But I’ve been around long enough to know not to make promises like that. Unless I have absolutely no other choice, though, of course I’d tell you. Probably after fighting big-time to keep from having to do it in the first place.”

“But you did it to Lucas. And Jane, and the others. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “That was the kind of moment I was talking about, where you or I or Crowley are in serious danger. Summoning circles are very, very dangerous for demons in the wrong hands, and quite dangerous even in well-meaning or inexperienced ones. It is  _ not _ a risk I am willing to take. Not with Crowley. I chose to control the spread of the story and of the information.”

“But you didn’t do it to me.”

“We know you will keep our secrets.”

“What if I started telling people?” Max asked, not wanting an answer but simultaneously dying to know. “About demons and angels and summoning and everything?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and Max knew the answer even before he saw how Crowley was gripping the side of his chair, as though he hated the thought going through his head.

“You must understand, Max,” Aziraphale said without opening his eyes, “that we have many — very — powerful enemies. Right now, we are safe. There are many ways in which we could become...less safe, very quickly. We cannot allow that to happen.”

“We trust you,” Crowley put in. “That’s why we’ve told you what we have. We know you’re not going to betray us, so it’s not important to talk about what we’d do if you did.”

“You’d mess with my mind, if I did,” Max said, unable to talk around it. “You’d mess with my mind, to keep you safe.”

“And keep  _ you _ safe,” Crowley said. “If things went to Hell, metaphorically or literally, it would be safer for you if you didn’t know some things.”

“But you’d tell me first.”

“We’d tell you first,” Aziraphale agreed.

“And we’d only do it if we had  _ no other choice,” _ Crowley said vehemently.

Max believed them. He had known them for years, plenty long enough to learn to see the pain that was crossing their faces every time they thought too deeply about using their powers — whatever powers they had — on him.

“You said, a few minutes ago,” Aziraphale said after a pause, “that you don’t know what we would do to you if you did something wrong.”

Max nodded, scared all over again.

“So I ask you, what have we done in the past, when you have done something we dislike?”

Max inhaled. Exhaled. Saw what Aziraphale was getting at. “You...tell me,” he said slowly. “And you explain what was wrong, and you help me understand it. And I try not to do it again.”

“And what did we do,” Aziraphale continued, “when you went behind our backs to do something we specifically told you not to do, something that was actively dangerous to you, your friends, and us?”

Max really saw what Aziraphale was getting at now. “You talked to me,” he said. “You explained the things I didn’t understand, so that I wouldn’t do it again.” He paused. “The only time you didn’t was when I brought the book here.”

“Ah,” Crowley said. “We screwed up on that one. I was too busy freaking out about its existence to properly talk to you. Doesn’t make it okay, but...I’m sorry.”

“Much the same,” Aziraphale admitted. “And yet, did we do anything awful to you then either? We were too curt, and didn’t explain ourselves, but I don’t think that’s what you’re so terrified of.”

Max shook his head.

“So do you really think we would start now?”

“No,” Max said. His voice was small, and cracked on the word. He sniffled and hugged his knees to his chest. “But why? Why did you start hanging out with me in the first place? There must be a reason.”

“Oh, for-” Crowley levered himself out of his chair and came over to the sofa. “Budge up,” he said, and Max scooted toward the center. Crowley sat down so that he and Aziraphale were on either side of Max. 

“Do you remember when you first came here?” he asked. “Maybe not; you were pretty little. What  _ I _ remember, Max, is finding two little boys in my hedge, not a week after moving here. I was still jumpy and paranoid, and chased them off because I was scared. But then, just a few days later, one of them came back. And he was helpful, and polite, and interesting, and before I knew it he was here almost every day, and I  _ liked _ it. And I- I wanted him to stick around.”

Crowley looked at Max. His mouth had the half-smile that said he was feeling vulnerable. “That was you, Max,” he said. “We started hanging out with you because we liked you. Still do. That’s literally all.”

Max didn’t know what to say. He was crying, he realized, from exhaustion and letdown and relief. “Can I hug you?” he asked after a moment.

Crowley hesitated. “Sure,” he said.

Max shuffled over and leaned a little awkwardly into Crowley’s side. They didn’t hug often, but as Crowley wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer, he was glad he’d asked.

After a minute he felt motion behind him and Aziraphale said, “May I?”

Looking up, Max saw Aziraphale was standing, gesturing at the space on the sofa directly behind him. “Yeah,” he said.

Aziraphale sat and laid a hand on Max’s upper arm. Max settled a little deeper into the sofa, so he was equally between Aziraphale and Crowley. Then they all sat there, not talking. Just being still together.

After a minute he sat up a little, having remembered something. 

“Aziraphale,” he said.

“Yes, dear?”

“You said, earlier. Twice, actually. You said that you’d only do drastic stuff if you or Crowley  _ or me _ were in serious danger. Is that- why am I on that list? Is it longer than that and you’re just cutting it off, or…”

Aziraphale smiled a little. “I care about you very much, dear boy. I would say-” he hesitated briefly, as though a little afraid of what he was about to say. “You are the most important person to me, after Crowley. The list you mention is not particularly longer than that, no. It is just as long as you know.”

Max found it hard to catch his breath. “Really?” he whispered.

“When Aziraphale chooses someone, he does it all out,” Crowley said, with the tone of someone who knew from experience.

Max turned to him, knowing the question was in his eyes, but not wanting to ask it, just in case.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’d kill for you, kid. Steal for you, speed for you, quick, what are some other crimes?”

Aziraphale snorted, and Max found that his throat was too full of tears to speak.

“When Crowley chooses someone, he also does it all out,” Aziraphale said softly.

Max sniffled, and Crowley huffed. “Woe betide anyone who tries to hurt you, Max, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Max whispered. 

“Nah, I get it,” Crowley said. “I’m just glad you were willing to listen to us.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “I don’t fault you at all for being uncertain. Thank you for talking with us.”

Max sniffled again, then yawned. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Some time in the early morning, I expect,” Aziraphale said. “Do you want us to take you home to sleep?”

Max sighed. He really didn’t want to, no. But he  _ was _ sleepy, and he should try to get some rest before morning.

“You can stay here, if you want,” Crowley offered. “Sleep on the couch.”

“Is that okay?”

“Absolutely!” Aziraphale beamed at him as though there was nothing he’d like better. 

Max felt himself smile in return. “Okay. I’m just gonna-” he sat up, “take my jumper off. It’s a little hot.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, standing up and stretching. By the time Max had freed himself of the jumper, Aziraphale was back at the other end of the sofa. Crowley hadn’t moved from the near one.

Max eyed the space in the middle. “Um, guys? There’s not space for me to sleep here without getting in your way.”

“How unfortunate,” Crowley drawled.

“I don’t mind,” Aziraphale said. “Do you?”

Max thought about falling asleep between his two guardian beings and smiled a little. “Not really. Are you two gonna fight about who gets to be next to my head, or…?”

“Aziraphale’s lap is comfier,” Crowley said.

Max lay down and stretched out. He laid his head on Aziraphale’s knees, awkwardly at first, but relaxing when the angel put a hand on his shoulder, exerting just the tiniest bit of pressure. His feet pressed against Crowley’s unhurt leg, and he felt one of the demon’s hands land on his ankle, also gently grounding. He sighed.

“Oh,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes. “I have to set an alarm. I’m s’posed to text my mum at seven if I’m not home.”

“I’ll do it,” Crowley said. “You sleep.”

Max hesitated a moment longer, but he was so very tired, and remarkably comfortable, and rather overwhelmed by relief that he could still trust his favorite people in the world, and he wasn’t up to arguing.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Then he fell asleep, with his angel and demon awake on either side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! I have some more vague ideas in this vein that I'd like to explore, but I'm not sure when I'll get the inspiration to properly write them. So until then, this is finished. I hope you enjoyed it, and comments make me very happy!


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